As fast as the kiss happened, it ended. Christian abruptly released her, leaving her emotions in a whirlwind. He scooped his hat from the far end of the sofa where he had earlier placed it.
“I apologize for my impulsive behavior,” he said and popped on his hat. He never made eye contact with her. He simply stomped from the parlor. Over his shoulder, he added, “You’re right. We could never be a couple.”
She tried hard to think of some witty or cutting response to wound him in return; however, all that came to mind was that his kiss was the best she ever experienced. Why did it have to be with a man she neither liked nor trusted?
Chapter Four
“Son of a bitch,” Christian cursed aloud and urged his horse forward in the direction of Howth some nine miles away. He wasn’t one to act impulsively, yet he had done so, where Elizabeth Corry was concerned. Worse yet, after kissing the saucy lady, he wanted more, and it was sheer willpower—not to mention guilt—that had kept him from taking further action.
It was all rather disturbing. He didn’t find her all that attractive. Well, that wasn’t totally true. She definitely appealed to him, but she wasn’t at all like the women he preferred. She was too damned thin. He liked his women with a bit more flesh on their bones—ones with a substantial bosom. Obviously, Elizabeth’s bosom was not more than a handful. Besides, her hair was auburn, and he didn’t care much for red-haired ladies. They were usually too headstrong, and most he had known possessed nasty tempers. What had been the appeal then? He must have missed Mary Margaret more than he realized.
“Let’s go, Absalom,” he said and nudged his horse to a trot.
He had traveled at a leisurely pace from Dublin, but now he needed to feel the cooler breeze of dusk against his face these last few miles to Howth.
Elizabeth had lied to him. Adam disliked small seaside villages and much preferred the excitement of Dublin where he was close to his projects for homeless children. Still, he would make the trip just the same. He needed time to think and to reassure himself that his instincts were correct. Elizabeth was keeping something from him, and he was going to find out what it was.
Christ! How could anyone know so little about a man, especially one you were to wed? He thought of their kiss again. He hadn’t acted in a very gentlemanly fashion, but neither had the lady responded in a ladylike manner. One moment she was betrothed to Adam. The next moment she was kissing him.
Where the hell was Adam? All Christian needed was one small clue, and he was certain it would lead to another and another until he found Adam.
A half-hour later, he was still brooding over the matter, but put it aside when he approached the outskirts of Howth. The town jutted out along the coastline on the northeastern tip of the peninsula and Dublin Bay. He’d get himself an ale and a bite to eat at the town tavern, give his horse a chance to rest, and ride back to Dublin. He’d enjoy the darkness and solitude of the night on his return to his town house. Perhaps somewhere along the way a plan would come to him.
He slowed his horse to a walk and eventually stopped and dismounted in front of the Howth Head Tavern. His mouth watered for a meat pie and an ale. Maybe, he’d even question the patrons inside if anyone had seen Adam. This way he could honestly say to Elizabeth that he’d checked out her story when he called her on her lie.
He smiled to himself and sauntered through the entrance. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the darkness inside.
A stout fisherman, who was sitting at a nearby table, waved him over. “ ‘Ey stranger. Are ye from Dublin? What news have ye?”
Christian smiled. No one was a stranger for long in any of the country taverns. The village folk were too anxious to hear any news from elsewhere to keep to themselves.
“Aye. I’ve come from Dublin. What is the latest you’ve heard?” Christian asked. He slid a chair over to the man’s table.
“Pitt resigned. He failed those who counted on ‘im to win emancipation for the Catholics.” The fisherman lifted his ale with a beefy weather-worn hand and took several gulps.
“Aye,” a younger man, with bright carrot-colored hair, said from the table nearby. “Protestantism now means union with England.”
Christian raised both his hands in a gesture to stop this line of talk. “Hold there. Nothing has changed concerning Pitt. He has indeed resigned, and that is all I’ll say. I learned many years ago it’s not good business to discuss my personal views on politics or religion—that is,” he paused, “unless I happen to know the person discussing those issues agrees with me.”
The group of men who had gathered around chuckled. Before more could be said, Christian ordered a round of ale for everyone. This brought additional cheers.
“All right. Ye win then,” the stout fisherman said good-naturedly, “but only because I’m in no mood to pester with ye. I’m Efem. What brings ye to Howth?”
Christian acknowledged the men and gave his first name, as they had. “Actually, I’m looking for my brother. I was told he may have spent some time here in your fair village.”
“What might ‘is name be?” Efem asked. He chugged his ale and motioned to the tavern keeper for another.
“Adam Traynor. Have you ...”
Efem stood. He bumped the table and caused some of the ale in Christian’s glass to overflow. “I’ve said all I intend to say to ye. If ye’re wise, ye’ll leave this establishment right now.”
What the hell! Caught totally off guard by Efem’s reaction, not to mention that Elizabeth apparently had told the truth, he speechlessly stared at Efem.
“Surprised, are ye?” the tavern keeper rushed over to the table. “He passed several bad coins off to me, he did. ‘Twas a month ago. I passed them to Lucinda Mayo when I purchased meself some butter and cheese. Next thing I know, the authorities are down me throat. Fortunately, yer brother was me last sale that night and a stranger. Witnesses saw him hand me the coins, so I was not hauled off to gaol.” The tavern keeper crossed his arms and stood in a way that suggested he wanted Christian to challenge what he just told him.
Christian glanced around at the angry faces clustered around him. He was definitely in serious trouble. He slowly rose from his chair. Maybe, just maybe, he’d be allowed to ride out into the night with no more said.
“First of all, though my brother was a stranger, the fact is no grounds to assume he passed the bad coins. I assure you, the coins must have been passed to him. If you’re worried I will do the same, I tell you, nay.” He lifted his greatcoat and dug into his waistcoat pocket to retrieve a coin. “This here,” he flashed the piece before them, “is real.”
“I’ve been tricked once. Why should I trust ye?” the tavern keeper asked.
“I’d be skeptical, too, if I was in your place, but I give you my word.”
“That’s not necessary,” Efem said. “Hand over the coin.”
Christian did as commanded.
Efem bit into it, then gave it back to Christian. “ ‘Tis a liar ye are. The base metal in this here coin is not quite right.”
Christian had no time to wonder how Efem had deduced this fact by a mere nibble to the coin’s edge. A roar of protests and suggestions as to where to hang him rang through the crowd.
“Wait! I’m innocent,” he protested as two men seized him by each arm.
Efem raised his hands to silence the crowd. “Let ‘im speak ‘is mind. No one can never be sayin’ we weren’t fair.”
“Will you release me, please?” Christian asked.
Efem nodded and the men on either side of him did so.
“I know it looks bad, but would I give you a coin I knew was counterfeit when it’s what you’re looking for to incriminate me? I got that bad piece in Dublin. I’m sure of it. I purchased a teapot with two guineas and received crowns and shillings in change—counterfeit change. I haven’t purchased anything since. Here, look at the rest.”
He reached inside his pocket again and displayed the coins. In their anger, these men could hang h
im, yet they needn’t know about the stash in his boot. If he made it alive from the tavern, he didn’t want to get robbed on the way back to Dublin.
Efem examined the coins bite by bite. “Some of these are good. Some aren’t. Enough doubt has been cast on the situation.”
“He’s lyin’,” the carrot-colored-haired man jeered.
“Maybe he is, maybe he is not. Do ye want ‘is demise on yer conscience if ye’re not as sure as night and day?” Efem asked.
The carrot-colored-haired man turned red, and said, “Aye. Ye’re right.”
Efem frowned and told Christian, “I think it would be best if ye and yer brother not be comin’ here in the future. The men are generous tonight, but who can say what will happen another night? Be gone.” He dragged his chair out and sat back down. Others followed suit or resumed the game they had been playing prior to Christian’s arrival.
Christian waited for no further encouragement. He hurried from the Howth Head Tavern into the darkness of night.
It was not until he’d galloped Absalom a mile down the road that he eased the creature’s pace to a walk, and let out a much-needed sigh of relief.
He couldn’t ask Roderick what he was about without jeopardizing himself or his position, but he damn well would ask Elizabeth. First, she denied speaking about Adam to Roderick, and now, he’d nearly got himself hanged for passing a spurious coin.
The situation was becoming a nightmare. Had Adam intentionally passed a bad coin to the tavern keeper at the Howth Head Tavern, or had it been passed to him unknowingly? If only he could find Adam, he was sure a lot of his questions would be answered.
He traveled down the road near the edge of the sea. In a hundred yards or so, he’d be off the peninsula and in a half-hour to three-quarters hour back to his town house. Damn, he was exhausted. He yawned, stared up at the moonless, starless night, and out over the sea. An odd red glow, like nothing he’d ever seen, flashed in the distance on the water. Instantly, he became alert. He blinked and the red glow disappeared, proving it was simply his tired eyes playing tricks on him.
“Good God, Absalom,” he spoke to his horse. “Let’s get home.”
* * * *
Elizabeth had fought hard not to think about Christian’s kiss and her unladylike behavior to allow it ... nay, return it. Hours after the kiss and Christian’s abrupt departure the day before, a message had arrived from Roderick, advising her of the time and place the following evening where she was to drop off the coins. Though she had not welcomed the news, it had set her mind on other matters.
Now, the time was near, and she hated lying to Hannah. One lie led to another, just like the most recent one. She told the dear woman she was planning to spend the evening at Charlotte’s when in fact she had purchased material to sew a friar’s robe and secured a room at White’s Inn on Townsend Street not far from Charlotte’s. Fibbing was the easy part. Getting a portmanteau out the door without capturing Hannah’s attention was another matter.
After she had learned of her assignment from Roderick, she had determined that a young woman alone, especially at dark, was an invitation to trouble. She decided to disguise herself as a friar and hid her costume in the travel bag outside the entryway from Hannah’s view. Her governess had the habit of always sending her off with some last minute addition for her comfort. If Elizabeth opened her portmanteau, Hannah surely would notice the robe and ask questions.
“Shall I ask Alf to bring the carriage around for you?” Hannah called up the stairs to her.
Elizabeth stuck her head out her bedchamber door. “Aye. Please. I’ll be down shortly.”
She touched the pouch of coins hidden between her breasts and rebuttoned the high-neck gown she wore. When she changed into the friar’s robe, she’d move the uncomfortable sack elsewhere on her person.
“It’s now or not at all,” she muttered aloud and scanned the room. She hoped to return to the safety within its walls.
Hannah met her as she descended the stairs. “Here’s yer cloak, muff, and lap rug, Bethy. ‘Tis supposed to get colder tonight. I thought you might need the lap rug if Charlotte’s home gets too drafty. I know how you like your fires.”
‘ ‘Tis considerate of you, Hannah,” she said and took the items, thankful she had set the portmanteau outdoors. The warm flush one feels when one has deceived someone, crept down her spine. I’m sorry, Hannah.
“Have a good eve, Elizabeth,” Hannah said in a more serious tone. “There’s naught ye can do, but pray and wait for word on Mr. Corry. Ye may as well keep busy.”
Praying was one situation. Keeping her busy the way Roderick intended to do so was another matter. If only I could tell you, Hannah.
“Now ye’re sure Charlotte’s servants will be at home? Ye won’t be alone?”
“I’ll be fine. Good-bye.” Elizabeth opened the heavy front door and stepped outside.
Hannah waved to Alf, who waited for Elizabeth on the street, and gave the door a firm tug closed behind her.
Elizabeth waited a few moments to be certain Hannah wouldn’t poke her head out the door. Satisfied it was safe to retrieve her trunk, she glanced around the front of the town house. The trunk was gone. She hurried to the street where Alf waited.
“Did you see anyone take the trunk I set out front here?” she asked the driver.
Alf stepped away from where he had been leaning against the carriage. “Aye. ‘Tis my doin’. I thought ye would want it inside with you.”
“You gave me a fright,” Elizabeth said with relief. “I worried it was stolen. Thank you. It was thoughtful of you to see to it.”
Alf helped her into the vehicle, and they soon headed towards Charlotte’s. At Charlotte’s, she’d send Alf home and walk the few short blocks to White’s Inn.
Fifteen minutes later, she stood in front of Charlotte’s home. Not until she watched Alf drive off down the street, did she relax somewhat. God in heaven. She’d made it, undetected by Hannah.
She raced to the inn and rushed upstairs to the room she had secured earlier. Hurriedly, she changed into the friar’s robe. She twisted her hair into a knot at the back of her head and yanked the hood of the robe down over her face. Roderick may have thought a lady an unlikely suspect, but a lady was definitely an attraction traveling alone, especially at dark. He hadn’t told her how to get the counterfeit coins to a Captain Desmond aboard the Aurora, a merchant ship docked in Dublin Bay. He simply gave her the time and ordered her to deliver them.
Everything would go smoothly. There was no reason for anyone to be suspicious of her. She’d not allow it. Her father’s life was at stake here.
In movements reflecting that of a somber friar, she descended the stairs to the first floor of the inn and stepped outdoors. Luck was with her, for a noddy approached and she hailed it down.
“To the harbor south of the bay,” she told the driver, imitating as deep a male voice as possible.
One more critical leg in her journey, and she’d hand over her worrisome bundle and return to the inn. Roderick had told her Captain Desmond would be expecting her. She was to tell him the silver tea tray would arrive in two days. The ornate floral design was one which King George himself would admire. Captain Desmond would know it was safe for the exchange.
By the time she arrived at her destination, it was nearly midnight. She stepped down from the noddy and gave the driver the fare.
“Mind yerself and yer purse. ‘Tis not safe with the dregs from these ships,” he told her and instantly drove off.
Though it was kind of the driver to warn her, she now experienced such fear she trembled in place a few moments until an angry voice sounded behind her. She jerked around.
“Get yer arse out of here. If I see that ugly face of yers again, I’ll feed ye to the rats,” the same voice warned. Next instant, a body came flying out into the street from a nearby tavern.
She turned and fled, forgetting her role. After she distanced herself from the incident a good several blocks, she stoppe
d to catch her breath. A seaman standing at the bow of his ship directly in front of her waved. She glanced around to see if he meant the gesture for someone else. He hadn’t She waved back.
In as deep a voice as possible, she gruffly asked, “I’m looking for the Aurora. Do you know which way ‘tis?”
“Aye. I’ll tell ye, but first tell me. What makes ye move so fast? ‘Tis your robe on fire, or is it what ye’ve been drinkin’?” Before she could respond, he laughed. “I’m just teasin’ with ye, I am. I never saw a friar move so quickly.”
“I’m behind schedule. Nothing more,” she quickly replied. “Please, where is the ship?”
“A couple blocks down. You’ll see it.”
“Thank you.” She hurried away.
Several seamen were standing on deck of the Aurora when she arrived. “I’d like to see your captain,” she called to them.
They chuckled and one said quite boldly, “He’s with a woman. Want I should interrupt?”
“Well, how long will he be?” she asked, thankful that they couldn’t see the blush she knew was on her face.
“Depends on how long it’s been. Sometimes he goes off fast.” The two laughed. One said, “We shouldn’t speak of such to a friar, now should we? In truth, could be all night. Can’t say.”
“Please. I must see him.” She was irritated. The man was supposed to be expecting her.
“Since ye’re one of them religious fellas, I guess he won’t mind. Come aboard and I’ll get him. But, ye’ll be responsible.”
A few moments later she found herself seated on a crate on deck waiting for the captain. She made every effort to keep the hood of her robe securely over her head to hide most of her face. Still, she sensed the seamen found her a bit peculiar.
A booming voice sounded below, causing her to brace herself for the captain.
“This better be important.”
She stood, and anxiously said in a deep friarly voice, “The silver tea tray will arrive in two days. The ornate floral design is one in which King George himself would admire.”
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